


Needed

by Evilchuckles



Series: Miss Gingerpaws Series [3]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Humour, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilchuckles/pseuds/Evilchuckles





	Needed

The worst thing about it was that Near had no idea what he had done wrong.

Gevanni kicked at the filing cabinet until there was an obvious, foot sized, dent in the lowest drawer and glared with all his considerable might. 

Fucking Near.

Fucking Near with his emotions which, presuming he actually had any (and the jury was still out on that one) he seemed able to turn off at will, like throwing a switch. Like nothing mattered except pure intellect. Like no one mattered. 

Like Gevanni didn’t matter.

Having effectively ended the filing cabinets potential to do evil in the world Gevanni turned to Near’s unoccupied desk and seriously began to consider what he could do to it that would piss Near off. 

Assuming that Near _could_ be pissed off by anything short of a psychotic mass murderer. 

Assuming that Near was even human.

Gevanni growled to himself, the noise oddly illicit in the empty office, and started to go through the unimaginable chaos which was Near’s primary workspace.

Half used pens (chewed). 

Endless notes made incomprehensible by a combination of Near’s personal short hand system and his generally horrible writing.

Case files, past and present.

Top Trumps cards from about three different sets, all mixed up together in an Obsessive Compulsive’s nightmare. 

Doodled-on paper (angry looking cats, mainly, but also swirling universes and abstract shapes).

Gevanni sat down and rooted further into the piles, looking through the strata for earlier layers.

He found crisp packets and newspapers, floor plans and requisition forms.

His hand alighted on something small. And furry. Under a heavy folder of crime scene photos.

Ah. Yes.

So, that was why the office hamster hadn’t been seen in a while.

Gevanni gingerly disposed of the now rather flat rodent and secretly decided to tell Near that it had gone to a lovely farm in the country to play with the other hamsters. ‘It died because you’re a weirdo slob,’ would just be too brutal. 

Quickly he remembered how angry he was and wondered if he should tell Near the truth and then start talking about ghostly scurrying noises in the flat. A deceased hamster looking for vengeance.

Smiling evilly Gevanni resumed his rummaging. 

Fucking Near...going off on a case without him. And not even seeming to think twice about it. Gevanni had confronted him a week ago when he realised that his name wasn’t on the field team list. ‘Why aren’t I going?’ he had demanded. Near had looked perplexed. ‘Because you aren’t needed,’ he replied, as though Gevanni was asking ridiculous questions just for the hell of it. 

It had been like a punch to the gut.

Gevanni had to admit, if only to himself, that his departure from the office after that could have been termed ‘storming off.’ Or even, ‘flouncing out.’ But he really didn’t care. 

It wasn’t that Near had been unfair. Because he hadn’t. The case hadn’t required Gevanni. There was another agent on the case already with exactly the same skills and besides, the whole thing was reasonably open and shut (provided you were a Near type genius freak) and would be over in a few weeks. Gevanni couldn’t claim that Near was wrong not to take him.

It was the _way_ that he hadn’t taken him.

 

They had been ‘boyfriends’, as Near so disingenuously put it, for eight months now and it was fast becoming apparent that Gevanni’s initial trepidation about what a relationship with someone like Near would be like, had been bang on the money. It was every bit as difficult and confusing and frustrating as Gevanni had foreseen in that blinding moment of insight in Near’s bed that first night. 

Being with Near was sometimes unbearably fantastic.

And sometimes it was just unbearable.

It wasn’t that Near didn’t try. Gevanni knew for a fact that he had read up on relationships at length, both before and after they got together. Near seemed to be conscious of a need to educate himself on how people behaved with other people on a day to day basis. His experience was mostly in the area of criminal masterminds and they weren’t known for their healthy social interactions. Not to mention the fact that the only two people who Near had cared about had died. And one had kind of hated him. 

No, Near knew that didn’t have a frame of reference for friendship, let alone a romantic partnership.

And, Gevanni at least, knew that he wouldn’t fix this with books. 

Not that Gevanni didn’t silently adore Near for trying to. For him. 

That wasn’t the issue as such. When Near made howling errors Gevanni would correct him and Near would graciously learn from it and not make the same mistake again. Gevanni would explain, patiently, that telling Gevanni’s mother that they were lovers when she had only called to invite Gevanni home for Christmas _without_ first checking with Gevanni that his mother was aware of his sexuality, for example, was not a good idea and to Near’s credit he would apologise unreservedly. And then set about trying to repair the damage, often making it much worse in the process, but Gevanni still appreciated the gesture.

Or Gevanni would suggest that talking about Mello when they were in bed together was maybe a tiny bit inappropriate and Near would look surprised but ultimately bow to Gevanni’s judgement on it.

Or Gevanni would hint that, ‘I’m available for intercourse this evening, if you’re not too busy,’ might not be the sexiest come-on in the history of eroticism (although, somehow, at the same time because it was Near, it was still the most exciting sentence Gevanni had ever heard) and Near would nod earnestly and go off to read eyeball-melting sex guides, and start trying out a series of come-ons that were not just unsexy but actively disturbing. 

After this happened a few times they had found the magic words to Gevanni’s heart, or more specifically, his trousers. All Near had to do if he was in the mood and had battled successfully to find time in his erratic, criminal serial killer-determined schedule, (which he did surprisingly often, to Gevanni’s immense joy) was say, “I want you.”

Sometimes simple was best. 

So, Near was a lot of work (and Gevanni’s mother was still twitching with shock) but they got by, socially, sexually; Near was considerate of Gevanni’s feelings even if he sometimes had to be informed as to what they were, and he was generally kind and sensual (God, it was just...the sex was still so...Gevanni couldn’t quite find words for... _oh never mind_ ) and Gevanni had been surprised to find how willing Near was to make room in his life for him. Literally. They were already living together.

But...

But Gevanni didn’t actually know for sure whether Near had any feelings for him at all. He couldn’t be certain that, if he walked into Near’s apartment tomorrow and said, “I need to be single again, good bye,” whether Near would be more than vaguely perturbed at this news. Whether he would respond with, “That’s very disappointing but I wish you luck in your future endeavours.” Whether Near would care.

In short Gevanni wanted to know if he inspired any of the intense love and devotion in Near which Near inspired in him. Because he loved the man utterly, helplessly, humiliatingly. Gevanni’s world stood or fell according to him. 

And, in a way, Gevanni had only felt _more_ unrequited since they got together because, while Near said and did the things which lovers do, he was impossible to read on a deeper level. Gevanni wasn’t convinced that Near felt more than mild affection for him. It was hard to imagine Near feeling strong emotion, despite what Gevanni had seen when Near was grieving for L and Mello. 

Or maybe that it was just impossible to imagine Near including Gevanni with L and Mello, feeling for him what he had felt for them. 

Love.

Gevanni didn’t mind waiting but he wanted to know if he would be waiting forever.

So...perhaps he had overreacted just slightly to Near’s words, ‘You aren’t needed.’ Perhaps he had heard in them the confirmation of suspicions which he had never managed to articulate to the man himself. The words, “What do I mean to you?” just would not come out of Gevanni’s mouth and he had a morbid fear that if they did he would turn into a woman on the spot. He resented that Near did this to him. Gevanni had had plenty of relationships in the past where he was happy to coast along and, before now, he would have sneered at any man who worried about such things.

Or obsessed about them.

Sometimes Gevanni was afraid that being with Near was turning him into a whiny, needy, girly-queer, entirely at odds with his normal personality. In every other part of his life he was calm, collected, emotionless. He had to be to do this job or it would have finished him years ago.

But with Near he was occasionally a big sticky ball of doubt and yearning.

For a start, he was unselfconsciously using words like ‘yearning’ and, frankly, once you start doing that you might as well buy some sparkly toiletries and have done with it.

Gevanni emerged from his extended reverie to find himself head down in despair on Near’s desk, hair inadvertently glued to a half finished air fix kit of a model aeroplane, and the telephone ringing next to him. 

He sighed and picked it up.

“Gevanni?”

Well, speak of the white haired devil...

“Yes, boss?” Because work was work and home was home and never the twain did meet.

“We’re done here and will be back on the evening flight.”

“Alright.”

And that was all. Until a couple of minutes later Gevanni got an email to his private mobile saying, ‘I’ll be back around 4 am. I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed.’

Gevanni hesitated and then replied, ‘I won’t be asleep. I need to talk to you.’

‘If you like.’

Gevanni groaned as he read that. There was their problem. Right there, in three words. And in all the other words that weren’t there. 

 

By the time 4 am rolled round Gevanni had worked himself up into a bit of a state. He was determined to have it out with Near, once and for all. He had considered a hundred ways to ask him and rejected each one as too nauseatingly desperate, finally deciding to wing it and hope for the best. After all, this relationship already had one person who planned conversations, it didn’t need another one.

So when Near padded through the door, looking remarkably rested for a man who had just got off a transatlantic flight, Gevanni was all set to have at him. The words ‘Is it more than sex and moderate affection?’ were ready on his lips.

But...

But he hadn’t seen Near for six weeks.

And Near was smiling at him and kicking off his shoes and coming over to the sofa and Gevanni was running a shaking hand through soft hair and Near was kissing him and Gevanni was kissing him back. 

And Near was moaning immediately, like he had missed this. Like he had missed this a lot. And Gevanni was panting and pulling at Near’s clothes and Near was frantically unbuttoning Gevanni’s shirt, hands everywhere. 

And Gevanni was soon sliding Near’s jeans down his thighs.

And suddenly they were both naked and Near was sitting over him, on the sofa.

And Near was digging his fingers into Gevanni’s shoulders while Gevanni’s own fingers were thrusting.

And the world had stopped.

All there was anywhere was this. Near so tight and hot and gasping with want, surrounding Gevanni. Moving. Gevanni aware of only _this_.

Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure...

Near crying out and slamming down hard.

Gevanni pushing up, almost brutally, completely out of control.

Pretty lights behind the eyes.

Then quiet.

 

Near hadn’t moved for a long time. Gevanni didn’t want him to. He had wrapped his arms around Near’s body and wasn’t sure he could let go, even if begged.

“Did you miss me?” Near asked.

Gevanni’s breath stuttered and it was a minute before he could answer. “Yes.”

Near sighed. There was relief in it.

Neither of them spoke for awhile.

Then. 

“Near, do you love me?” Gevanni asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Near replied. “Of course.”

Gevanni grinned ecstatically into Near’s shoulder and wondered where he could buy some sparkly toiletries.


End file.
